


A Storybrooke Christmas Carol

by marieYOTZ



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marieYOTZ/pseuds/marieYOTZ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina has learned to hate Christmas in Storybrooke. Until she’s visited on Christmas Eve by the unlikely spectre of a former ally, which begins a night that just might change her life…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chains

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to get this done for the beatthe0dds Christmas exchange on tumblr, but seeing as I didn’t start until a few hours before it was due… Didn’t quite happen :/ But I shall press on anyhow!
> 
> It was a hard choice between this, and little Emma Loo Hoo helping Regina’ heart grow two sizes, but in the end Dickens took the day.

The people of Storybrooke loved Christmas. They had done for all 29 years they’d been trapped by the Evil Queen. With each December that arrived, Regina Mills wondered if it was some sort of ‘pay as you go’ penance for all the harm she’d wrought – once per year, for 25 days, the balance in the town shifted. For those days only, it was her victims who reveled in their happiness, and she who found herself back in that familiar place, outside looking in. Regina hated Christmas. 

Peace on earth, goodwill towards men? Holly jolly anything? A cup of cheer? The words were about as comfortable to her as a mattress stuffed with pinecones. She’d avoided all the fa la la-ing fairly successfully for the first 20 or so years of the curse – all she’d had to endure were the garlands wrapped around the columns of City Hall topped by garish red bows. She did not permit displays of poinsettias in her office. At the end of her work days, she could retreat to her beautiful stark home, happily free of all evergreens. 

It wasn’t until Henry had come into her life, and had been old enough to have thoughts on anything, that she’d been forced to make some concessions. The very instant the child was old enough to have a clear opinion, he’d embraced the holiday season with, well, child-like wonder. The concessions were nothing extreme -- Regina couldn’t bring herself to allow her most hated time of year entry in her home – but she’d ventured out into it with Henry. Each year, they’d get in her car, and drive through the neighborhoods of Storybrooke – he, admiring the beautiful light displays (beautiful was his word, not Regina’s); she, staring determinedly straight ahead, a fake smile frozen on her face, attempting to make appropriate noises. And she’d gone to his Christmas pageants, hadn’t she? She hadn’t missed a single one from the time he was five years old. Every year, the same horrible songs and reprehensible messages of faith and joy. It nauseated her, but she bore it stoically, until that instant where Henry delivered his two lines, or sang a wobbly solo. In those moments, she’d almost thought she felt something akin to a brush of the holiday spirit – but then Henry’s moment would end, the feeling would wither and die, and she would walk straight out of the auditorium. 

And now, in the end, what had all that been for? Nothing. Like every kind thing she’d ever tried to do, it was a worthless gesture that served only to shame her for having made it at all. Henry had left her when the curse had been broken. He hadn’t been able to leave fast enough. Now he was off, wrapped in the doubtlessly silver and golden glow of love of the Queen and King of Christmastime, Mr. and Mrs. Charming, and their little sprig of mistletoe, Emma Swan. It would hurt if she let it, but she didn’t. She pushed it away, and focused on the fact that at least this year, she wouldn’t have to go to that damned pageant on Christmas day – tomorrow. The season was very nearly behind her… 

But when there was a loud knock at her front door, Regina knew her misery wasn’t quite over yet. Although her insides hissed against the thought of an intrusion, it was not in her nature to back away from a challenge. And a knock on her front door was certainly a challenge. 

She painted on a smile, and strode to the door, pulling it open to see Emma Swan standing on her landing, staring back at her with that same slightly stunned expression she always had when they met this way – as though she was caught off guard by the fact that Regina did, actually, answer her front door. 

For a long moment, Regina just stood there, hand holding the door part way open. Emma was apparently disinclined to proceed with her purpose, leaving Regina to drive the conversation. Her features were locked in their semblance of a smile – haughty, false. “Ms. Swan. To what do I owe this interruption?” 

The question seemed to jar Emma back into her typical challenging mode. “Interruption of what, exactly? Your son’s with my parents, you’re not the mayor anymore. Busy decking your halls with resentment?” 

Regina’s expression slipped to a scowl. “Do you want something, or are you just here to insult me?” 

Emma sighed. “Look – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start out like that… Can I come in?” 

Regina made a quick sound of disparagement at the idea. “I’d rather you didn’t.” She stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her. “What is it?” 

Emma was looking at her intently, tight-lipped, brow furrowed. She hesitated a moment, but eventually seemed to find her words. “I… was wondering what you’re doing for Christmas?” 

Regina’s head jerked back at the words. Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “What I’m doing? Why, plotting the overthrow of the world and tampering with dark arts, of course. I’m the Evil Queen, what else would I be doing?” 

Somehow, Emma was not put off by the cynical response. She just seemed more determined. “Look, Snow and James are doing a Christmas supper before the pageant. I thought… maybe you’d like to come. I think Henry would like to see you – and he won’t get much of a chance at the show.” 

Regina was caught off balance by this. She had no mechanisms to respond to a gesture like Emma had just made. She reverted instead to a default of suspicion and hostility. “He won’t have any chance. I won’t be at the pageant.” 

This seemed to surprise Emma a great deal. “You’re not gonna go? But – why? I mean… it’s not like you’re on house arrest. Are you worried about how people will treat you? I’ll be there – “ 

Regina rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t care less about how those simple fools feel about my presence anywhere. I’m not going because I’ve suffered through that pitiful display for the last five years, and now there’s no reason to. And as for your invitation to dinner – I’d sooner eat glass than dine with Snow and her imbecile of a husband.” 

For a long moment, the only response was Emma’s eventual long and tired sigh. Finally, she elaborated. “I thought, maybe for Henry…” 

“Henry doesn’t want me there, Ms. Swan. You’re fooling yourself if you think otherwise. You never believed I loved him, he never believed I loved him. Maybe you were both right. The mistake was mine. “ 

“That’s not tr-“ Emma attempted to interject. 

“Goodnight, Ms. Swan.” Regina finished, stepping back, eyes narrow and hard. 

Emma just looked at her, sad, resigned. “Fine. Whatever.” She turned around and walked down the steps. As she disappeared down the sidewalk into the night, she called back over her shoulder, “Merry Christmas, Regina.” 

Regina watched her go until she was entirely out of sight, then she turned to open her door and return to the sanctity of her home… But she jerked her hand back quickly when her door knob, which had been such a simple round object a moment ago, squirmed against her hand. She stared down at it, and the cruel face of a dragon stared back, writhing against the confines of the bolts affixing it to the door. Its jaws cracked open like it was about to emit a mighty roar, but all that came out was a low, unearthly, anguished moan. The wretched sound made Regina squeeze her eyes tightly closed until it finally faded. When it was again totally silent on her front landing, she hesitantly opened her eyes – and all that she saw was the same doorknob that had been there for 29 years. She shook her head, carefully grabbed the knob, and let herself back inside. 

She breathed a sigh of relief once inside the quiet of her home, trying to dismiss from her memory that strange hallucination. It was almost working, until she noticed the tendrils of smoke drifting out from beneath the closed door of her office. Although every fiber of her being screamed to run upstairs, crawl into bed, and call the whole thing some Swan induced waking nightmare, her body moved forward of its volition, and pushed upon the door. 

The room was cloudy with smoke. It was almost impossible to see, but she stumbled forward relying just on her knowledge of the room’s layout, gasping against the acrid air. Finally, she dropped to her knees, and with that, the smoke simply cleared away. When she looked up from her coughing jag, she was crouched in front of one of the room’s plush chairs. In that chair sat her old friend Maleficent. 

Or some version of Maleficent, anyhow. One that was hazy silver-grey, that looked haunted beyond reckoning, and that was wrapped and wrapped and wrapped again in curling branches of cruel looking thorns 

“Well hello, old friend.” The apparition spoke, her smile not reaching her dead eyes. “Well met. It has been a fair while. Not since long before the Savior slew me with her father’s sword.” 

Regina simply stared at her. “Maleficent?” She finally choked out, still recovering from the smoke that otherwise seemed to have left no trace. 

“One and the same, dear… more or less.” She leaned forward, wincing as a thorn pierced her flesh, but empty eyes unchanging as she gazed at Regina. 

“You’re… dead, though. You’re dead. The dead can’t be brought back, that’s the first rule.” 

Maleficent laughed silently, pin-pricks of blood appearing on her shapeless clothes as the movement of laughter pressed her ribs against the thorns. “That is true enough. And I have not been brought back… I am merely here for a visit.” 

“A visit?” Regina answered slowly, almost past words at this point. 

Maleficent nodded solemnly. “A visit. Do you see these thorns? Wrapped around me? Holding me prisoner? These are the chains of my own making, Regina. I wrought them in life, and I wear them in death.” She leaned back, and gasped as another thorn pricked her. “There are chains waiting for you, too, my dear… Chains of iron hearts, to drag you down for eternity. Daniel’s heart will hang heavy on your mother’s chains… Perhaps Henry’s little heart will hang on yours.” 

Regina could only stare terrified at the ghastly spectre in front of her. She was frozen, unable to move, unable to speak. 

“The chains are heavy, and they are hard to carry, Regina. So hear me when I say this. Three spirits will visit you tonight. Heed them, and heed them well. Do not be afraid of what they have to show you. They are your last chance to be free…” 

“But –“ Regina finally managed to get out. 

“No. No more. I have said all I have come to say.” At that, Maleficent closed her eyes, and almost instantly, a strange shimmer surrounded her. When it cleared, the vision had transformed into a small dragon, wings tattered and torn from the unforgiving thorns. Painfully, it plunged from the chair and dropped into a harried sort of flight, headed straight for the walls. Regina bit back a gasp at the moment the creature would have crashed against them, but instead, it simply flew through them as if they weren’t there. 

The spell broken, Regina hurried to the nearest window – but outside, she saw nothing. It was as if whatever she had seen had simply disappeared. Shaking and disoriented, Regina hastily exited the room, pulling the door closed behind her as if it could banish Malificent’s terrible ghost, and with that, walked hurriedly up the stairs to her room.


	2. Christmas's Past...

Sleep had not come easily for Regina, but it had come. Because it had been so hard earned, she was thoroughly displeased to be awoken by a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her. As she opened her eyes, she whipped her head around to the edge of her bed, to fix her intruder with her most profoundly murderous Evil Queen stare. 

Except that her burning stare locked onto the shining eyes of her stable boy, and instantly, her gaze softened. 

“Daniel?” She whispered. 

The beautiful boy smiled at her, that sweet daylight smile she’d missed so well. “No…” He answered softly. “I’ve taken the form of Daniel to help you in remembering, but I am not him.” 

Regina slowly remembered Maleficent’s statement. Three spirits would visit her… “So you’re…” 

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. I’m here to take you backwards… To help you remember.” He reached out his hand to her, still smiling so gently. 

Regina’s eyes narrowed. “We didn’t celebrate Christmas in my old world. So you won’t have very far to take me, I’m afraid.” 

He laughed, and his eyes sparkled like he really thought she was charming – the way Daniel’s had once done. “We’re very good at approximating, I assure you. We’ll make do.” 

Cautiously she reached out a hand to place in his, and before she could venture a further thought, she found herself swept up and away. 

When she came to again, she was in… a cabin it looked like. A simple place. It should have been cold, but the crackling fire in the hearth of the room seemed to be staving off the chill. Near the fire sat a man, and beside him a little girl – maybe six or seven years old. Regina crouched slightly, as though to avoid being spotted. 

“Don’t worry – they can’t see us. Do you recognize them?” Asked Daniel – the Ghost of Christmas Past. 

Regina studied them closely. She did, of course. She recognized her father, though he was younger than she ever remembered him. The smiling child beside him was harder to place, but… who could it be, but herself? Had she ever been that young? 

“This… I’d forgotten this. This is the year that my father took me with him for a short trip to his winter cabin.” She was quiet for a moment, trying to dredge up the memory she hadn’t had occasion to visit in a long, long time. “‘A chance to see the world’, he’d called it. It was the first time I’d ever been away from home. It was…” She was surprised to find herself tearing up. “It was a wonderful trip. I was so happy to be with him.” 

The Ghost smiled his sweet smile at her, and nudged her gently on the shoulder. “Go closer… What are they saying?” 

Unable to help herself, Regina walked closer. She was hungry for sharp details to a memory that had dulled over the course of her many years.

“Are you having a good time, my dear?” She heard her father ask, as she approached behind where the pair sat. She saw the way her father looked down at his daughter with loving, kind eyes. It made her heart heavy and light both at the same time. 

The little girl smiled. Beamed, really. “I am, Father. I so enjoyed riding in the snow today.” The snow. Regina turned from where she stood to look outside, but of course, there were no windows in this simple structure. It didn’t matter. She remembered that snow, now. Heavy flakes that managed to drift so slowly down to earth, carpeting the ground in a way that had looked like hope itself, to her childish self. She’d ridden her little pony, up in front so she never had to see the perfect snow marred from the horses’ hooves. Her father had ridden close behind. Oh, how they’d laughed and enjoyed themselves that day. She turned back, then, to the conversation unfolding between the father and daughter. 

“Mother will be cross, I think, that we left without telling her…” The girl said quietly, the easy happiness fading from her soft brown eyes. 

Regina wondered, had she seen the sadness in her father, back when she was a child? Probably not. She was younger here than Henry was now – back in Storybrooke - and… children see so much and so little at the same time. All the same, she saw it now – the sorrow, the regret that seemed to cloak him as he reached out to stroke the girl’s cheek. “It may be that she is, Regina… Your mother is… difficult to please, I know. I wish I could make her see you the way I do… You are perfect, I hope you know that. You make me smile every day that you’re in my life…” 

Regina blinked hard against the tears that her hapless faithful father’s worlds brought to her eyes. In contrast, her child counterpart simply beamed up at him, and snuggled against his side. “Is this what you wanted me to see?!” Regina demanded of the ghost, turning away from a sight that pained her, to face the spirit that had brought her here. “How much of a wrong I did him??” She cried then, real tears that wouldn’t be blinked away, as she watched her father whisper something to his little daughter that made her laugh. “Did you think I didn’t know?” 

The ghost walked closer now, and gently placed his hand on Regina’s arm, which was clutched tight around herself. “No…” The ghost whispered. “I only wanted you to see how happy you were then. You choose to see what you want to, you choose to hold on to what you want to, and with you, Regina, what you choose to hold onto is never worth keeping. Hasn’t that always been your failing? Come on, it’s time to go…” He ran his hand down her arm, and took her hand in his own once again. Regina looked desperately back at her father’s kind face, but caught only a glimpse of it before in a bright flash, she was gone. 

And then reappeared. This time in the woods, in the snow. She suspected she should have been cold, clad as she was in a simple silk nightgown, with no shoes on her feet – but the snow didn’t affect her at all. “What are we here to see?” She asked the ghost, as she glanced around at the empty space before them. 

“Just wait and see…” Was his only answer. 

In a moment, she heard the soft crunch of hoof-steps on snow. An instant later, two figures appeared from the woods, leading horses behind them. 

“Oh…” Was the only sound Regina could make, and even that little noise was painful. She remembered this. 

A young Regina slowed to a halt before her, hand in hand with Daniel, the way he was in her memory. The pair smiled at each other, and then leaned in to share a gentle, innocent kiss. 

“Regina,” she heard Daniel whisper against her younger self’s lips, before he pulled away. “I love you.” 

The girl smiled up at him, a real smile, wide and honest. Regina was transfixed by that smile, by the way her young self’s eyes seemed to shine with love, with faith, with joy. She wished that Henry were here to see this moment, to see that once she’d had the makings of the mother he’d always deserved. 

“You were so young then… You had such a sweet heart, didn’t you?” The ghost gently stated. 

The girl turned suddenly, as though she thought she’d heard something off in the woods. In turning, her gaze landed squarely where Regina stood, and for a moment, Regina forgot the ghost’s assurance that she could not be seen. She buried her face hard against her shoulder, bringing her arm up to shield her face. It hurt, it physically hurt, to think of her young self seeing her like this – seeing what she would become in time, seeing the frozen plane that her wide-open heart had turned into – but then the girl spoke, and Regina remembered she could not be seen. Slowly, she dropped her arm. 

“Did you hear something, Daniel?” Young Regina asked, now a little skittish, the hand not wrapped around her horse’s reins clutching tighter to Daniel’s. 

Daniel smiled. “Only the falling of the snow, my love…” 

The girl shook her head. “We should go back. Mother will be angry when she finds out I went riding in the woods. It displeases her.” 

Daniel dropped her hand then, only to place it against her flushed pink cheek instead. “Everything displeases your mother, Regina… She is a cruel and spiteful woman.” She nodded her assent, and moved to remount the horse as if that settled the matter, but Daniel grabbed her back. 

“You cannot change her, you know? But you don’t have to let her change you. You are everything I love in this world… Promise me you won’t let Cora destroy that, Regina. No matter whatever happens.” 

The girl leaned against him then, pressing her forehead into his neck. Her answer was muffled by the embrace, but Regina didn’t need to hear it. She remembered the words well enough now. 

“I promise.” 

The young pair parted then, remounting their horses, and turning them to ride back in the direction they’d come from. As they departed, Regina felt the ghost’s hand on her arm again. “Did you keep your promise to Daniel, Regina?” He asked kindly. 

Regina could feel her heart sinking, whatever was left of it. Oh, a promise… Made while in love, standing in the snow, full of so much hope. A promise that had been buried under so much hatred and bitterness, she’d forgotten it had ever been made. 

“I…” She began, weakly. “She killed him.” She turned to face the ghost who was wearing her first love’s form, and stammered on, as though she was actually making her excuses to Daniel. “He was all I had… And I watched her kill him.” The way he gazed back at her was so free of judgment, so quiet and calm, that it made her all the more frantic to explain. “I just… I hated her so much, after that. Her, Snow… everyone. They all had so much, and they’d made sure that I had nothing --”

He interrupted her with a gentle finger to her lips. “You made a promise. A promise not to let her change you. Have you kept it?” 

She hung her head, all those long silenced regrets rushing now to the surface. “No.” 

With a soft touch, he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. He smiled at her, that sunshine smile. “It’s not too late, not if you don’t want it to be. Hold on to the right things, Regina.”

With that, before she even knew what was happening, she was back in bed – sleeping again, as though she’d never been awoken by visions from her Christmas’s past.


	3. Ghost of Christmas Present

“Time to wake up, sleepy head!” Dear lord. Was she in a kindergarten classroom all of a sudden? That chipper voice certainly seemed to indicate so. She opened her eyes and glanced balefully at the speaker. 

Of all the things she’d ever expected to see, Mary Margaret seated cross legged at the foot of her bed, smiling beatifically down at her was certainly not one of them. This was most assuredly the stuff of nightmares. 

“Less than thrilled to see me, I can tell!” The eternal woman-child beamed. “It doesn’t actually matter. I don’t really need you to be excited about it, I just need you to cooperate. Ghost of Christmas Present, at your service!” 

Regina had a lot of complicated emotions that were difficult to convey in a scowl, but she tried. “I’m fairly certain your services will not be required. I know how I’m spending my present Christmas.” 

Faux Mary Margaret smiled that shit-eating, know-it-all smile of hers. “Ah, that you do… But do you know how your son is spending his?” She reached out her hand, then. “You don’t have to come, if you don’t want to. The choice has always been yours… It’s up to you.” 

Regina really didn’t want to. But she did, anyhow. She reached out her hand, and with a swirl of Christmas magic, or something doubtlessly equally as treacly, they were… somewhere else. Somewhere she knew. They were in Mary Margaret’s little apartment, and she was watching as Emma Swan walked in the front door. 

“Did you ask her?” Henry asked from the sofa. Little Henry. Her son. She felt it then, felt it as something truly unchangeable, no matter what the world came up with. 

Emma looked down at the boy, with those same tired and sad eyes she’d looked at Regina with earlier in the evening. “I sure did, kid… Not sure she totally thought I meant it, though.” 

Henry looked back at Emma, expression hopeless. Regina could only watch, helpless in this moment to make things alright for him. “Maybe, if I call her in the morning? Or maybe…” At this, he hesitated.

Emma parked herself next to him on the couch. “Or maybe we’ll just invite ourselves over there after the show. It’s Christmas. No one gets to be alone.” At the sound of approaching footsteps, she grinned at Henry ruefully. “Case in point.”

Snow and James appeared from the upstairs then; Snow, cradling a box that she handed down to Henry. She beamed at the boy. “I found them!”

He smiled back at her, and opened up the box, Regina moved a little nearer to examine its contents. It was filled with ornaments – camels and stars and sleighs, and every other ridiculous holiday thing Regina had been forced to let into this little haven of hers. With a gentleness surprising in one so young, he picked an ornament out of the box. “I’m glad we’re putting these up… I never had a tree at home. Mom never wanted one.” He dropped the ornament – a little wooden drummer boy - back into the box, almost guiltily – as though he could feel his mother’s disapproving eyes on him. 

In truth, though, they were not so disapproving. It would be fairer to say that she looked abashed that, given all the ways she’d deceived Henry over the years, she hadn’t given him this one little thing. A tree. Maybe a tree would have made the difference.

It was Mary Margaret – Snow -- who dropped to her knees then, to comfort him. Oh didn’t that just take all? She put a hand softly on Henry’s arm, and she smiled up at him. “Henry, once upon a time, your mom was the best person I knew… It’s really important to me that you know that.” Henry gazed down at her, solemn and sweet, and she simply smiled back at him, before passing the box of ornaments to her husband, and pulling the boy to his feet. “Come on, this tree’s not going to decorate itself! Emma, you too! I’ve waited a long time for this!” 

They set to work then, pulling ornaments out from tissue paper layers, and hanging them on the boughs of the gently glowing tree. Regina just leaned against the edge of the sofa, only a few feet away, and still, as ever, so far outside. She looked over her shoulder at the Ghost of Christmas Present, watching the scene with a saccharine smile that was a fair tribute to her real-world counterpart. “There’s a reason I’ve always hated Christmas, you know…” She started, but was interrupted by the Ghost’s insistent tap on her shoulder, directing her back to the Charmings. 

Henry held an ornament close to his face for inspection, Regina had to lean closer to see it. It was a round disc with a little winter scene painted on it, a woman riding the horse in the snow. He held it up for Mary Margaret to see. “This kinda reminds me of my mom… You said she always liked horses, right?” 

“You know,” Snow said as she looked at the little scene, “it reminds me of her, too.” With that, she wrapped Henry’s hand closed around it. “I think you should give it to her tomorrow.” 

Henry looked at his grandmother with disbelief. “Snow White can’t give the Evil Queen Christmas presents!” He proclaimed, as though the very thought flew in the face of everything he’d been trying to accomplish in the past year. 

Snow smiled at that. “Henry, Snow White’s not giving the Evil Queen a Christmas present. Regina’s son is giving his mom one.” She ran a hand gently across his hair.

James placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s okay to love your mom kid.” 

 

Regina was surprised that she, even she, had the grace to feel ashamed at kindness offered that she’d done very little to deserve.

Finally Emma spoke up. Absurd Emma Swan, with her apparent child-of-true-love-wisdom. “You know what, Henry? You said I was a hero, back when I didn’t believe it… Back when I didn’t even know what it looked like.” She smiled at him, then. “But I broke your curse, didn’t I? So I think tonight, I get to know. A hero’s just someone who holds on. Holds on even when it would be easier to let go. You came looking for me, remember? Cause I didn’t know how to look for you. Maybe that’s all Regina needs, too. Nobody here’s giving up on your mom.” 

With that, James pulled a big silver star out of the box, and pressed it into Henry’s hands. “Come on, kiddo, time to perfect our masterpiece.” He hoisted the boy high in the air. Henry was laughing as he placed the star atop the tree.

“Sweet, isn’t it?” The voice, so close at her shoulder, jarred Regina away from the scene in front of her. “You were saying that there’s a reason you’ve always hated Christmas?”

Regina’s voice was thick as she tried to find words to explain. “I don’t… I’ve never had – this-” She gestured at the family, at their easy warmth, at their joy, at their love “-to give. ” 

The ghost looked back at Regina, and shook her head pityingly. “You don’t have to give this.” She responded, waving her hand dismissively at the scene. “You just give what you have. That’s what Christmas is, it’s a chance to give lavishly. But you, Regina… You just determinedly stand out in the cold, all alone, letting every good thing you have freeze up inside you, because you don’t believe that what you have is enough.” 

The ghost turned back to the family gathered around the tree. “A door is open, Regina. A light’s on, burning just for you. But doors don’t stay open forever. And if all you’re willing to offer is anger and resentment, sooner than you think the light is going to flicker out.” 

Regina frowned at that. “And then what?” 

The ghost shook her head, looking tired. “My time is short… But you, will find out soon enough. There is one more spirit coming for you tonight, and it is coming like a mist along the ground…” She reached out then, and wrapped Regina’s hand tightly in her own. Abruptly, the room and its inhabitants dimmed and faded, and Regina scarcely had time to process the whispered “Good luck…” from the Spirit before she was back at home, fast asleep in a silent room.


	4. Ghost of Christmases Yet to Be

The third time Regina was awoken that night, it was not by any words. It was by a deep sudden chill that cut straight to her bones, and a heavy sensation of dread that made it difficult to push herself up, or even to open her eyes. As though her body were responding to some part of her silently screaming out that she did not want to take part in whatever was coming to her now. 

Even so, Regina opened her eyes. She would see this through ‘til the end. 

At first, she could make out nothing unusual. As her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, however, she thought she could see a figure standing immobile in the center of the room. The very stillness and distance of it, the way it was invisible against the night, earned it her fear – her, an Evil Queen – far more easily than any hovering ghoul breathing fire and brimstone might have done. 

“You are, I take it,” she spoke, surprised at finding her voice there to support her at all, “the Ghost of Christmases Yet To Be? You’ve come here to show me what future waits for me, down this road?”

There was no response, no movement. Regina shook her head quickly, wondering if she was in fact just conjuring some figment spirit out of the dark. 

“If that is your purpose, then let’s have it. I am ready to see. Take me where you will.”

Finally then, a movement. Though it was still dim, the pale cut of flesh was starkly visible in contrast to the sheer lack of anything else. A hand emerged from wherever it had been hidden and slowly pointed to the door of her bedroom, and then it moved no more. No words of guidance were provided. 

On shaking legs, Regina slid out of the bed, her dread growing deeper in the silence. She walked towards where the spirit bade her go, and in her path passed before the ominous presence. Though she dared not study it too closely, as she crossed in front of it she could make it out a little more clearly, or at least the heavy black cloak it wore. Finally at the door, she reached for the knob, turning back to look uncertainly at the spirit. It had not moved. Regina was not sure why she hesitated, there was no reason to suspect that behind the door was anything other than the same unthreatening hallway she had walked down last night before bed. No reason other than this pervasive sense of foreboding.

Slowly, she reached out, turned the handle, and pulled the door open. The sound of it creaking startled Regina. Had it ever made that sound before tonight? Surely she would have noticed such a fearsome noise. 

Regina was not fully wrong about her assumption of what would lay on the other side of the door – it was indeed her hallway, she noticed, as she stepped out into it. But this was not the way she had left it last night. This was… this was a lonely stretch of a decrepit dying house. The floor was coated with dust. It swirled around her feet as she cautiously walked forward. The paint was chipped, and flaking away, turning into yet more dust on the floor where it had landed, and apparently never been swept away. Regina had the unsettling sense that the walls were sagging, the ceiling collapsing -- the house felt as though it were simply sinking in on itself.

At the end of the stairs, Regina turned back around. The spirit now stood just outside her bedroom door. She had no sense of how it had arrived there, or when. She had not heard it move. Had it been anyone – anything – else, she would have stormed back; she would have made threats, made demands to know what had been done to her beautiful house - but in this moment she could only stand and stare, eyes flicking rapidly back and forth between the spirit and all the signs of what a tragedy her home had somehow become. 

“Spirit,” she finally made herself ask, “What has happened here? I don’t understand…” 

Once again, her only answer was the slow raising of a hand, pointing to the staircase. She felt certain that she could stand here until the very end of time and that would be all she ever got, so haltingly, she started down. She winced at each wretched groan the steps made as she moved from one to the next, a descending scale of sorrow. 

When she finally reached the bottom, she saw a light flickering out from beneath the door of her office – that very same doorway where she had seen Maleficent’s smoke pouring forth when this whole strange night had begun. She moved forward almost immediately, unwilling to turn back and see the dreadful spirit pointing her on. When she went to turn the knob, her hand merely passed through the door, as though it were not even there and so, with a deep breath, she simply stepped through.

Her office looked as decayed as the rest of the house, but here there was a fire burning in the hearth. It illuminated the outside world, somewhat. Now Regina could make out snow being whipped around by a wicked wind. This snow did not seem kind, it seemed desolate, and for the first time Regina noticed the distant lonesome whistling of that bitter wind.

This fire, unlike the one in the memory of her father’s cabin the Ghost of Christmases Past had shown her, did nothing to stave off the chill of that wind. It blew straight through Regina. It did not, however, seem to affect the only other light in the room – a tiny candle glowing brightly on her old desk, cooling beads of wax affixed to that once beautiful wood. 

She recognized the candle, red and white striped like a candy cane. It was one of a set that Henry had given to her on his eighth Christmas – the last gift he ever gave her, actually. She’d never burned them, had had no use for their cheery glow. 

Finally, Regina settled her eyes on the figure sitting behind that aged desk, faintly illuminated by the candle’s glow. She had not wanted to look too closely, not wanted to see what she would become, but that was, after all, exactly what she was here for. So she looked – and she tried to look truly. 

At first, her future self looked scarcely different from how she herself looked now, certainly not of a piece with this sad house, aside from her worn out threadbare clothes. As Regina crept closer, though, she could see it – in the void expression, the empty eyes, the way she sagged forward in her chair – the decay, the rot, the wasting of this house, it was all there in her future self. It was just inside of her.

In her hands, which were draped against the desk, this piteous future form of herself held two sheets of paper. She held them so close to the little flame that Regina was afraid they would burn. Slowly, she flipped between the two pages: one, then the next, then back again to the first. She did not appear to be reading them, really – simply staring at them. She did not smile, she did not cry. But then as Regina had long known, what use were tears when nobody would see them? Certainly, here, it seemed no one would have seen them in years and years. 

The candle stuttered after a long while, flickering back and forth as though it were struggling to stay alive, but ultimately it gave way to nothing. A simple puff of smoke to mark its loss. This haunted future of hers then simply folded up the papers along their old crease lines, set them down on the desk, stood, and walked out of the room – wearily, as though these movements had been made and made and made again.

Regina moved to watch her leave. She stood in the doorway as her shadow self walked up those sorrowful steps, and disappeared. And here she was, the sole witness to this lonely disappearance of… herself.

When there was nothing left to see, she turned back. She was not surprised to see the spirit standing in the back of the room. “What now?” Regina asked balefully. “Is there something left to see?” The ghost simply turned its head slightly, towards the desk. The papers. Regina walked back towards the desk, picked up the sheets, and moved towards the slowly dying fire to read them by. The sheets were yellowed and fragile, threatening to disintegrate if moved too harshly

The first, in handwriting she could almost post-date from childish careful letters she remembered so well:

_Mom,_

_This is to say goodbye. After the curse broke, I wanted to help you. I really did. But nothing I did ever worked. I’m sorry. I know you think this is what I wanted when I went to find Emma, and maybe I thought it was, too – but I was wrong. This was never what I wanted. I tried to fix it, I honestly tried. I really hope you know that. ~ Henry_

The last sentence was smudged a little. With a tear? Henry’s, or her own?

The second, in hopelessly messy semi-script:

_Regina, by the time you read this, we’ll be gone. Back to the Enchanted Forest. I tried to make everyone see we couldn’t just leave you here, but nothing I’ve ever said has made them forget what you’ve done, or ignore how unrepentantly frigid you still seem to them after all these years. I wish I’d ever been able to figure out how to convince you how to come in from the cold – I honestly gave it my best White Knight try. Maybe my skills only work on ‘Charmings’… But hell if I don’t feel like a failure._

_There are a lot of things I’ve always admired about you – I bet you’re rolling your eyes when you read this, but it’s true. Your surety (I never had that), your wit (I was on the wrong side of it most times) – the way you raised Henry… The person you brought him up to be. That’s what I still don’t understand, even as we’re gearing up to leave. How good you raised him to be, and how little you seem to credit that back to yourself. I’ll never understand that, Regina. I may have given birth to him, but I didn’t make him into a boy that breaks curses. That was all you._

_You’ll always be his mother. I could never take that from you, you know? I love him more than I can say, but there are times I saw you with him… when I saw the person I really think you are. Someone more than all her anger and fear. Even now, in these final moments, I’m seeing that._

_I’m sorry Henry’s letter was so short – he’s a teenager now, you know how they are. Or maybe you don’t, I guess._

_No one seems to know what will happen to you when we go. Magic’s unpredictable here, isn’t that your tag line? I hope it’s something good, Regina. I hope it makes you free._

_~Emma_

Ever so gently, Regina folded the letters – much the same way her counterpart had done only moments before. She stood and moved to set them on the desk, and then she turned to face the spirit head on. She’d seen this terrible scene, what more was there to be afraid of now? 

“What is this?” She demanded. “How long has she been here like this? This is cruel!” 

The ghost gave no acknowledgement to the question, it simply faced her impassively. The silence was maddening. Ever more desperate, Regina forced herself forward. “Why don’t you answer? What good is any of this if you don’t tell me what I have to do to prevent this? Tell me!” 

At that, she reached out, and ripped the hood down. 

Some part of Regina knew whose face she would see under that heavy black cloak. Love for Daniel had defined her past; hatred for Snow had been the catalyst for her present; but there was only one person who’d ever had the power to steer her to this bitter end. 

“Mother...” Regina whispered, fear tangling her heart anew. 

The spirit shook its head slowly, barely seeming to move.

No, of course not. There was nothing of her cruel and cunning mother in this creature’s empty gaze, nor in its flat and hollow voice. 

“This is your town, dying slowly, fading into nothing. She has been here long enough that, though she has burned them but once a year for only long enough to read those letters, tonight she saw the last of the light from Henry’s candles.” 

Regina couldn’t bear the sound of those toneless words. She turned away from the ghost to look around the room, sinking under the weight of desolation. And so… here was the end. Abandoned, alone, fading away a day at a time. There was an ugly sort of poetry to it. At long last, a life that lived up to her deepest, oldest fear. 

She turned back to the Spirit, still watching her so dispassionately. “I don’t… I don’t want this life! I know I’m not an easy person, I do know that.” She was desperate now. “I don’t want to be left here! It’s not too late, is it? What do I have to do? Please, tell me! What do I have to do?” 

As she trailed off, the burning embers of the fire began to fade, and along with them the light illuminating the room. The spirit lifted the hood back over its head, and immediately began to disappear into the coming darkness. Regina struggled to hold on to the dying light, desperate not to let the ghost leave her without a way out of this. 

The answer was only one word, spoken as the last ember changed from darkest orange to black. “Change.”


	5. God Bless Us Every One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized almost three years later I never posted the last chapter of this story! Sincere apologies!

And then at last the dawn. Gentle light pouring in the windows to dispel the dark, chase off the shadows and clear away the wreckage of that sad future. Regina upon opening her eyes could scarce believe the welcoming beauty of this new day, the tiny spark of hope it carried with it. She sprung out of her bed, and ran to the window, throwing it open and leaning out, just to revel in the sensation of that crisp clean air against her skin. No more the lonesome whistling of the wind – now all Regina heard was the distant sound of bells, chiming joyfully at the arrival of Christmas morning. 

Christmas! Oh if ever she was going to change her fate, it would have to be today, when the visions were still so clear; when she could still hear the Spirits’ warning voices and feel the chill of the decaying prison that was waiting for her. Today, when all the songs promised good will, and all the stories told of a bright and shining light to lead the way from darkness. She pulled back from the window, and hurried to the door of her room, pulling it open and stepping into the hallway – ah! This beautiful house, clean and bright, standing strong as though it could stand forever – Regina knew better than that now. Her feet barely touched the ground as she hurried to the staircase and down. She rushed then to the front door, and threw it open, as though to let in the world.

Time, there was still time! Time enough to set things right, to chart a better course. She wanted to march out right then and there, barefoot in the cold, and shout a greeting to every person she saw – but no, time enough for that later. For now, her redemption would start – as all the best ones do – with a cinnamon pie. 

**   
Hours later Regina stood at the door of Mary Margaret’s apartment, pie in hand. She hesitated now, staring at the threshold which would be the point of no return for her – but then she thought of the visions from the Ghosts, and she was ready to cross through. She knocked. 

It was Emma who answered the door. For a long moment the blond just stared out in surprise. Finally, Regina took pity. “Ms. Swan… I’ve rethought my position on this gathering. I hope the invitation still stands?” Still no answer from the dumbfounded Savior. “I brought a pie?” 

At that, Emma managed to huff out a laugh. “Well, someone told you the magic words! Yeah, absolutely the invitation still stands. Come on in…” She stepped back, allowing Regina to enter. “Henry!” Emma shouted over her shoulder, as she took the pie from Regina’s hands. “We’re gonna need another place at the table!” 

Henry barreled around the corner from the kitchen. “What, Emma?” He asked, before catching sight of Regina. “Mom!” He exclaimed, freezing in place. “You came!” 

Regina smiled at him then, wide and true. “I came.” She hesitated. “I hope that’s okay.”

Henry just grinned back at her. “It’s Christmas, you’re supposed to spend it with your family.” 

Snow stepped out of the kitchen then, wiping her hands with a dish towel. She stared at Regina in surprise, Regina just raised her eyebrows by way of greeting. Baby steps. She reached then into her coat, and pulled out a package which she offered to Snow. Snow accepted the package, but looked at her curiously. “They’re candles…” Regina explained. “Henry gave them to me as a Christmas present one year. I’ve just been… waiting for the right time to use them.”

And to Regina’s surprise, once they were all seated around the table and the candles were lit, they cast a glow that was truly beautiful.

**

“Alright, Henry, it’s time for us to get back stage, you’ve got to get in costume, James has to survey the props, and I have to make sure everyone’s here!” Announced Snow. Regina, Emma, the Charmings, and Henry all stood in the lobby of the school auditorium, waiting for the pageant to begin. 

Henry nodded his assent but before he left, he stepped towards Regina, and smiled up at her. “I’m really glad you came, Mom.” He told her, a little shyly. Regina smiled back at him. “I’m glad I came, too, Henry. I’ve never missed one of your pageants. If I’d missed this one… Well, it would have been very foolish of me.” She reached out then, and ran a hand across his hair. He seemed truly happy that she was there. 

“Alright, I have to go. Watch for my solo!” Henry exclaimed before turning to scamper off after Snow and Charming. 

Regina turned to Emma then. “Well, shall we go get seats?” 

Emma nodded, but didn’t make a move for the doors. “I just… I’m glad you came, too, Regina. I know it was probably hard for you –“ 

Regina quickly shook her head. “No. I thought it would be hard, but it hasn’t been – not at all. Not like staying away would have been. This has been… a perfect Christmas.” 

Emma raised her eyebrows, surprised – but she smiled. “Alright, come on, let’s go grab some seats.” 

A few moments later, the house lights in the auditorium dimmed, and the performance began. It was more or less the same as it was every year, but this year the songs seemed sweeter to Regina, the messages of hope and faith truer. And that was infinitely more so when Henry walked onto the stage alone, holding a candle. 

Let the stars in the sky   
Remind us of man’s compassion.  
Let us love til we die   
And God bless us, everyone.

Slowly, the other students joined him on stage, all holding lit candles, and taking up the song.

In your heart there’s a light   
As bright as a star in heaven.   
Let it shine through the night,  
And God bless us, everyone. 

It was only when Emma pressed a crumpled up tissue into her hands before fishing another out of her coat pocket for herself that Regina realized she was crying. 

**

Emma and Henry walked Regina home. The streets were dark, but the Christmas lights shone spectacularly, lighting their way. They really were very lovely, Regina thought to herself. 

At last, they arrived back at her house. Regina wished she’d left some lights on when she’d left, it looked very dark and lonely right now, and Regina found herself reluctant to go back in there. 

Until, that was, Henry moved from Emma’s side to stand next to her. “Emma,” he said, “I think I’m going to stay with my mom tonight, if that’s okay.” 

Emma just smiled at him. “Sure, kid, that sounds good. I’ll tell Snow and James you said goodnight –“ 

“-And Merry Christmas!” Henry interjected. 

“And Merry Christmas.” Emma looked over to Regina then. “Goodnight, Regina. I really am glad you came today.”

Regina was still too stunned by Henry’s pronouncement to be very eloquent, but she managed to choke out a goodnight. “Thank you for inviting me, Ms. Swan…” Emma nodded, and turned to head down the walkway back to the street. “Merry Christmas!” she called back over her shoulder, just the very same way she had the night before – oh, but that felt like lifetimes ago. 

At that, Henry and Regina stepped into the house. Strange, the way a house that had felt so very empty with one person in it somehow felt abundantly full with two. Regina couldn’t stop smiling, it was a very strange feeling. “Well… I guess you should get changed for bed? Maybe I’ll make a fire, and make us some hot chocolate, and you can – tell me what you got for Christmas?” 

Henry beamed at her. “Okay!” He turned to go up the stairs, but turned back just a second later. “Oh, I almost forgot! I got something for you!” He reached into the pocket of his coat, and fished out a little tissue wrapped bundle. “I’m sorry it’s not wrapped better. Emma used all the tape on her presents – she’s not very good at wrapping.” 

Regina just smiled, as she accepted the little gift. “I hope you like it,” Henry whispered nervously. “I know you don’t have anywhere to hang it, but –“ 

Inside was the little Christmas ornament she’d seen him looking at the night before. Ah, so the Ghosts had not lied to her then, it had not all been some dream. They had shown her true enough. And how much better was she now, for what they had shown her? It didn’t even bear thinking of. She was a million miles now from where she’d been the night before, and she certainly would never go back. She interrupted Henry, placing a hand against his cheek. “Well next year, we’ll have a tree. And this –“ She held up the ornament, watching it spin on the red ribbon it hung from “-will be the most beautiful decoration on it.” 

Henry nodded, smiling, before turning again to head to his room. “Okay, I’m changing now. Don’t forget the hot cocoa, Mom!” He paused again, midway up the flight of stairs. “Mom? Merry Christmas…” 

Regina looked at him, standing there smiling at her. A night before, she’d thought she’d never see him in this house again. Now there he was, looking honestly happy to be there. Henry understood the Christmas spirit – he always had done, she realized. He’d understood that it was a season to give selflessly and fearlessly, and look what he’d given her tonight. Regina understood now, too. And she would do her best to hold to that spirit, whatever the season, whatever world they found themselves in. She’d thought the words would be harder to say – she’d avoided speaking them for so long, but in the end, they were the very easiest ones, and the most sincerely meant, she’d ever spoken. “Merry Christmas, Henry.”


End file.
